


Dutiful

by providentialeyes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Accidental Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Angst, Breeding, Coming In Pants, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Discussion of Abortion, Grinding, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Pre-Canon, Rough Sex, Scent Marking, Shifted Sex, Squirting, Unrequited, Unsafe Sex, Werewolves, aka a dumbass soft bitch, fuck or die but more like fuck them or they suffer and you're arthur morgan, kinda more just like unnegotiated unplanned whoopsies, non-binary john marston
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24418861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/providentialeyes/pseuds/providentialeyes
Summary: "Just you," John sniffs and squirms under Arthur's hold, "Outta e'ryone… S'just you. Don't want anyone else for an Alpha."John tenses sharply as he realizes what he said."I-I mean-" John stutters, "For… Since… Temporary."
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> john goes into heat, gang is hiding out, chooses Arthur to help him through it  
> the works yknow
> 
> mild dubcon since they aren't close and the whole thing is pretty tense also uh... accidental knotting :) oh and squirting... don't think I've posted anything with that before lmao 
> 
> nub, hole, slit, cunt, chest used for john

"John, I know this is a difficult thing, but with the way we've been balancing on a hair over the river it's just too risky to get you some-"

"Arthur," John says, quiet but firm. 

Slowly lifting his head to see everyone's eyes on him, bravely meeting each Alpha's gaze, Arthur's last, before lowering his face again. 

Whispering. 

"If I can choose."

Silence resounds in the tent before Dutch taps his pen on the ledger three times, in quick succession. 

"Arthur?" Hosea prompts. 

"Are we sure he ain't got enough time for one last job or somethin' to-?"

 _"Arthur,"_ Hosea says again, a little firmer, "Yes or no?"

"... Shit," Arthur mutters and presses his hand over his eyes, "Yeah."

\--

"I'm sorry," Are the first words between them after nearly an hour of silence, Arthur sitting on a crate in the corner of John's tent while the younger's head is the only visible part of his body. 

Otherwise burrowed under layers of furs, wool, shivering, miserably cold with pre-heat. 

Arthur blinks out of staring at the grass blades to focus on John, seeing the younger's dark, scared eyes peering at him, shadowed. 

"You can… You can just… Just don't let anyone…" John breathes in shakily, expression crumpling with fear, "Don't-"

"What?" Arthur asks, and it comes out much rougher, much more annoyed than he intended, guessing by John's sharp inhale. 

The sudden dropping of the younger's gaze. 

"Please don't let anyone in," John says slowly, "If you… There ain't much I know how to-"

John voice waves, falters, breaks and Arthur has to restrain himself for cringing at the sharp scent of guilt and fear coming off the younger, completely overwhelming the beginning scents of John's heat. 

"Sorry," John says again, shaky and barely holding together. 

Arthur sighs roughly and rubs his mouth, studying John. 

John's nest. 

There's something so odd about it. 

It's just… Not _John_. 

Too neat, too practical, no sense of comfort, safety, familiarity. 

Nothing like a real nest.

Only the bare minimum. 

"... This ain't your first heat," Arthur asks lowly, "Right?"

"... I- Not really, no," John murmurs, "First two... happened, but they broke."

"... They broke?"

"Like," John sniffs and takes a deep breath, hugging himself tighter, "Broke. Stopped, 'fore I could ‘finish’… Or anythin'."

"... Huh."

"I know it's a lot to ask… But if you don't want me, can you please just stand guard or somethin'."

Arthur's frown is unsurprisingly misinterpreted as John sits up a bit frantically. 

"I don't mean _constantly_ , just… Check… I suppose, maybe every-"

"Who says I don't want you?" 

"... Oh," John whispers. 

"No one's gonna come in here, that'd be a direct challenge to me, you should know that.” 

"I… Alright," John says very slowly, then lays down, lifting his gaze tentatively to Arthur's. 

"Jesus," Arthur huffs and sits up straighter, planting his boot heels in the ground and stretching back and up. 

When he returns to sitting, John's watching him with wide eyes. 

"What?" 

"You're just… Big."

"Big?"

"Uh, strong?" John says, seemingly like he's trying to compliment Arthur but the tone is plagued with worry. 

Arthur crosses his arms and sits back, studying John. 

"What'd you do, last time?" 

"Tried to sleep."

"No Alpha?" 

"Dutch… Offered, gave me money, in advance, sent me to find someone but I just," John sighs heavily and rubs his face, obviously irritated with the memory, "Barred myself in an empty old shack."

"... And rode it out alone."

"Yeah, til it broke."

"Both times?"

"Yeah," John mumbles, bringing the blanket up, trying to hide. 

"So, you haven't done anythin'..."

John shakes his head.

"Did you want to?" Arthur asks, " _Do_ you?"

"If you want, but like I said I only know a couple things but... If you want… I can learn."

"What are you offerin'?"

"Uh… My… Mouth," John says haltingly, "My… Holes?" 

John cringes involuntarily after saying those things, but doesn't take back the offer. 

Arthur sucks on the inside of his cheek, looking over John, the pitiful nest.

"This is just… Good grief, hold on," Arthur mutters as he stands and slips out of the tent, ignoring John's quiet, choked call of his name. 

\--

It's a surprisingly long walk from camp back to their secluded little tent, a pile of soft things slung over his shoulder. 

John's in the corner, now, curled up but staring at the entrance in an odd combination of hyper awareness and complete unfocus.

"... John?" Arthur calls quietly as he dumps the pile onto the existing 'nest'.

John looks up at him quickly, then down to the pile, brows furrowing sharply, distressed and confused and so fucking _scared_ the smell alone is making Arthur's skin crawl.

Arthur swallows and drops to his knees, several feet away, quietly busying himself with adding the new items to the nest.

A few of his shirts, a blanket from Dutch, a sweater from Hosea.

John's staring at the nest, when Arthur looks up, satisfied with his work. 

"What?" John whispers.

"S'better… More, uh, hell," Arthur mutters, "Just more of a nest."

"Those aren't mine," John says, hesitant as he starts to unfold, obviously wanting to move closer.

Arthur knows he could back off, give John some space, but that would just prolong the inevitable. 

"C'mere," Arthur says slowly and John tenses, inhaling slowly, crawling closer.

Arthur holds out the last shirt he had in the pile, one of his favorites, freshly washed but engrained with his scent.

John fingers brush his when the younger takes the shirt reverently, bringing it back in close to himself. 

It's unconscious, but Arthur sees John angling himself to protect the shirt. 

"You ever… Gotten anythin' from an Alpha?" 

"Dutch gave me a coat when y'all took me in."

"No. No, I mean…" Arthur trails off, trying to phrase this properly, "It's… Not just a shirt, John."

John twists the fabric in his fingers slowly then looks up.

"It's a claim?" 

Arthur lets out a slow breath to stop himself from losing his mind over how little John knows.

"Yeah," Arthur says gently, “To help you, this time.”

"Oh… Can I wear it?"

Arthur blinks in surprise and it takes a moment to gather his brain back into functioning order. 

"Sure."

John had never been much for 'shy', so Arthur's not entirely surprised when the younger carefully tugs off everything but his drawers and pulls on Arthur's shirt. 

Swimming in the fabric, messily shoving the sleeves up then slowly hugging himself.

Looking shocked and, for the first time since his pre-heat started, just a bit happy. 

"Better?" Arthur asks quietly. 

"Yeah," John says, sounding quite a bit more like himself. 

Not so timid, or terrified. 

"How close are you?" 

"Oh, uh… A couple hours," John murmurs and brings one sleeve up, rubbing his face against it. 

Arthur momentarily feels like he can't breathe, cause he's pretty sure John doesn't really Get It, but that was as much of a return of Claim that Arthur could get without physically touching the younger. 

Or, rather, _being_ touched. 

“Alright,” Arthur says mildly, “What d’you wanna do for now?”

“Can I ask you somethin’?” 

“Sure.”

“... Even if we weren’t stuck here,” John whispers, “Would you help me? If I asked?”

“I- I ain’t sure, honestly.”

John swallows thickly and nods before looking down at the nest. 

\--

“Arthur?” John mumbles, turning onto his back to look up at the older man where Arthur’s perched on the crate, reading. 

“Hm?”

“I’m…” John shifts and pulls Arthur’s blanket closer to him, “Gettin' close.”

“... Oh,” Arthur says awkwardly, “Do you… Do you wanna do somethin’?”

“Is it alright if I…? I can, uh,” John rumbles an annoyed sound before closing his eyes, face burning, “I can put it off a bit if I… Right?”

“If you touch yourself,” Arthur says neutrally. 

“Yeah,” John whispers, “Can I?”

“Why are you askin’ me?”

“‘Cause,” John chews on his lower lip then huffs, “Cause I want you to want me to.”

John trails off into annoyed mumbling about stupid Alphas and ‘why now’.

“Do you want me to watch?” Arthur asks slowly. 

“... Yeah,” John says in a tiny voice, “And talk?”

“Talk?"

John shifts under the blankets and Arthur watches the fabric move over where he knows the younger's crotch is. 

"Like your voice," John whispers then squirms. 

"... What're you doin'?"

"Fingers… Just rubbin'," John's legs bend then open wider.

"... Do it harder," Arthur says lowly. 

John's breath hitches, his eyes closing tighter and Arthur watches intensely as John whimpers. 

"Good?"

John nods shakily. 

"You wet?"

"Yeah… Yeah, yes, _shit_ ," John whispers and squirms, hips twitching into the touch. 

"Use your other hand too," Arthur murmurs, leaning over his legs as his cock presses against the closure of his trousers.

"Fuck," John hisses and squirms under the blankets, "How?"

"Start with one. Push it in."

"One doesn't… One's not," John takes a shaky breath in, clenching around the single finger, "Not enough."

"Then add another."

John slips in a second finger and curls them inside himself. 

"Better?"

"Yeah."

"Add another," Arthur says lowly.

John whines quietly but obeys. 

Squirming more as his fingers falter on his nub.

"Close," John whispers. 

"Keep goin'," Arthur says and John opens his eyes as he hears Arthur moving around. 

He sees the older man pulling off his shirt, pants obviously straining. 

"A-Arthur," John grits his teeth and bites back a small cry as his legs close around his hands, he comes. 

Arthur kneels next to the younger and leans over John.

John can feel the older man's closeness. 

Slowly opens his eyes. 

"... Hey," Arthur murmurs and John can't do anything but whine, fingers pressed deep in himself. 

"Yeah, alright," Arthur huffs, sounding amused, "That made it come on faster didn't it?"

"I think," John squirms and clenches around his fingers, slick dripping down his ass, before slowly pulling them out, "Yeah. Fuck, Arthur, _please_."

"What?"

"I don't know," John says weakly, "Hurts."

"... You want me to help?"

"Yeah. Yeah," John looks up at Arthur desperately. 

Arthur studies him for a second then grabs the covers and pulls them down. 

"Don't move," Arthur murmurs, kneels between John's legs, lifting the younger's hips.

John holds himself as still as possible as Arthur tugs his drawers down and off, leaving him just in the older man's shirt. 

John wants to spread his legs, wrap them around the Alpha's hips, grind up against _something_. 

But Arthur told him to stay still, so instead he whines shakily. 

"You want this, John?" Arthur asks quietly, "Seriously?"

"... Please?"

Arthur huffs quietly and undoes the button placket on his trousers, shoves the fabric out of the way. 

John groans low and needy, at the sight of Arthur's cock, firm and thick and flushed, the base ever so slightly swollen. 

At the possibility of being knotted. 

John squirms, catches himself and stills sharply, closing his eyes. 

Begging under his breath. 

Arthur presses against his thighs, testing. 

Sees that John doesn't struggle at all with having them butterflied open. 

Pushes further, until John's knees are against the nest, ass lifted up. 

John's slick n' shining, soaking wet, his hole clenching in need of something to fill him.

Arthur makes a low, pleased sound at the sight despite himself. 

Shuffles closer and lays his cock along John's slit. 

The younger's thighs tense under his hands and John's hips rock up against him as the Omega sobs. 

"Sorry," John whimpers. 

"Why?" 

"Can't- Can't stay still."

"Oh," Arthur whispers, "Nah, you can move."

A strangled sound escapes John and he covers his face with both arms, hips rolling, grinding his slit on Arthur's cock. 

"Damn," Arthur huffs lightly, amused by how quickly John got so needy. 

John sniffles quietly behind his arms and Arthur watches him, shifts and presses his weight down on John, grinding against the younger's nub. 

John twitches against him, gasping, clenching. 

"You got worked up awful quick, John," Arthur says lowly, "Usually takes an Omega a bit longer."

John shrugs weakly, toes curling at Arthur's hips. 

"Unless they _really_ want an Alpha's knot," Arthur murmurs, "Been achin' for it." 

"Fuck," John whimpers as the tip of Arthur's cock catches on his hole. 

Doesn't push in. 

"Please, please, please, Arthur, _please_ ," John begs hoarsely, "Breed me, c'mon, I'll do anythin'." 

"Anythin'?" Arthur drawls and nudges a bit further in, pressing down harder and holding John still. 

"Yeah," John gasps, "Christ, anythin', what d'you want?"

"Dunno."

" _Arthur_ ," John says shakily, "I'll owe you, yeah? Please don't… Don't-"

Arthur keeps his expression neutral as John's voice gets thick and wet with tears. 

"Don't what?"

" _Leave_ ," John squirms and wipes his eyes on the sleeves, "Don't want anyone else."

"... Really?" Arthur asks quietly, fingertips digging into the giving flesh of John's thighs, " _Only_ me?" 

"Just you," John sniffs and squirms under Arthur's hold, "Outta e'ryone… S'just you. Don't want anyone else for an Alpha."

John tenses sharply as he realizes what he said. 

"I-I mean-" John stutters, "For… Since… Temporary."

"Mhm."

"... Sorry."

Arthur presses in, John twitching and muffling a gasp in his elbow. 

Then a whimper, as Arthur's cock fits deep in him. 

Arthur's a bit aloof, eyes closed, head bowed as he fucks into the Omega. 

John tries to stay quiet, and unmoving, as much as possible. 

Tries to let Arthur imagine whoever else. 

Mary, maybe, and it'd be damn obvious he was not Mary if Arthur felt John's bony hips, heard the younger's tobacco and grit voice. 

His chest starts to burn, hurt, though he knows that ain't fair to Arthur, he asked the older man for this, not the other way round. 

Arthur was just kind enough to help him, save him from… A possibly worse first mating. 

Arthur shifts and changes the angle and John can't stop the broken whimper gasp that escapes him, clenching hard around the Alpha's cock. 

"Fuck," Arthur says under his breath, pauses, then thrusts in again, "You like that?"

"Yeah…" John whispers, "You’re big. Sorry."

"Stop apologizin'," Arthur mutters in annoyance and rolls his hips. 

John bites his tongue, fangs digging in until blood pools in his mouth.

He keeps his eyes closed, tentatively moves one hand down his belly, hesitating, waiting for Arthur to stop him or tell him he can't, that proper Omegas should be able to get off from just being taken by their Alpha. 

Arthur says nothing, John frames his nub with two fingers and breathes shakily. 

Maybe Arthur just knows, he was never a proper Omega to begin with. 

Badly bred mutt with no pedigree, no position in society except under civilization's shit-covered bootheel. 

Arthur's hands move, startling him, slide up his sides and then down, behind John's thighs, encouraging the younger to wrap his legs around the older man’s hips. 

John does so, slowly opening his eyes. 

"Good?" Arthur asks and John doesn't really know what he's talking about. 

Arthur lifts up slightly, looks down at him curiously. 

"John? S'that better?" 

"What?" John asks hoarsely. 

"... More comfortable?" 

John blinks, realizes that Arthur re-positioned him specifically so he could rub himself better.

Swallows harshly.

Nods. 

Arthur studies him for a few moments longer then grinds in deeply, purposefully, angling perfectly and John hiccups on a whimper, legs squeezing Arthur's hips. 

"Jesus," Arthur mutters and starts up another steady, stroking rhythm, "Gettin' close?"

"Yeah."

"Mm, could tell," Arthur grunts and adds in a harder, deeper thrust, pausing with the beginning flare of his knot stretching John's opening, "Squeezing down on me like that."

John helpless to the way he clenches, squirms, in response to that; _Arthur_. 

The words coming outta the Alpha's mouth. 

John can feel his slick leaking outta him, running down his ass, pooling under him. 

He's breathing faster, heart pounding as he pinches his nub, whining, the sound feral and wounded. 

More wolf than human. 

Arthur huffs a laugh above him and speeds up, lifting John's hips up so he's getting that perfect angle every time. 

John chokes on small, desperate sounds, tensing up, back arching. 

Lips parting, out of his mind, so close to coming he can't keep his eyes open, walls gripping Arthur. 

He falls over, begging senselessly, clenching and unclenching and pulsing around Arthur, the older man not letting up, not easing his pace in the slightest. 

John feels Arthur's knot swelling and makes a strangled noise as it starts to stretch him, putting pressure on him from within, he presses in on his lower belly with the heel of his palm. 

"Fuck, Arthur, Art- I'm-" John breaks with a small cry, coming again, slick and slippery with something thinner, gushing, leaking out around Arthur's cock, soaking the nest below them, the older man's trousers. 

John sobs through it, hips flexing, legs trying to clamp shut in futility as Arthur grunts and drives home in him. 

Stops, panting, as his cock becomes too thick. 

"Shit," Arthur mutters, jerks his hips back to test, wincing, breath catching. 

Stuck, like a dumb, first-time-fucking pup.

"S'okay," John whispers shakily, "Come."

Arthur grits his teeth and lowers himself, wrapping his arms around John, hips giving little thrusts as he gives in, fills John up. 

Coming in the younger, cock spilling as he groans against John's chest, forehead to the younger's sternum.

“ _Shit_ ,” Arthur growls roughly. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello same terminology cunt, slit, hole, nub, more unsafe sex, painful knotting, shifted sex, mild bleeding from sex uhhhhh  
> so that it's a bit clearer there's a reference to the fact that bonds can only be broken by one part of the bond dying in this AU sooooooo

John shifts under him carefully, breathing shallow, chest moving Arthur's head with each inhale and exhale.

He breathes shakily, twitching as he squeezes around Arthur's knot, feels the burning stretch. 

Arthur makes a quiet sound, muffled in his own shirt, John's chest. 

"Sorry."

" _Stop_ ," Arthur growls, honest to God _growls_ and John feels the older man shifting against him, thick fur forming on the arms around him, the limbs growing longer, Arthur's cock growing larger inside him, "Apologizin'."

It's spit through fang and fur and John chokes on another apology, squirms, moving his legs higher on Arthur's hips. 

"It's alright, Arthur," John says carefully and moves his hands slowly to the older man's fuzzy shoulders, "We're fine."

It sounds like a lie, even to his own ears. 

Arthur growls again, huffing hot and damp air against John's neck. 

"Alright… Alright- Just-" John cuts off with a gasp when Arthur rocks his hips, a strangled whimper slipping out of him, toes curling so hard his calves cramp.

Arthur's half-formed snout nudges his neck, his claiming spot.

The older man slowly starting a rhythm of grinding against John, knot shifting, tugging at John's hole, pressing firmly inside him in every direction.

Inescapable and overwhelming.

John turns his face to meet Arthur's, stares into the hazy gold eyes that greet him.

His heats really starting to fog him up, but he needs Arthur clear-headed again.

"Alpha," John whispers, Arthur's gaze on him sharpening in intensity, "Hurts."

It's a low-target throw, but he sees it register.

Arthur, more than anything, wouldn't want to hurt him.

And it does hurt, though not unbearably, the stretch aches, his whole lower half feeling hot and overstimulated. 

Arthur's face smooths back to sun-tanned skin and clear blue eyes. 

The rest of him shifts back and John muffles a desperate noise into his arm at the feeling of Arthur sinking deeper as his knot returns to its original size. 

Arthur's fingers graze around his hole, careful and caring as the older man pulls back, knot popping out roughly, come and slick flowing out after it.

John whines and clenches and instinctively reaches down to cover himself, stop his Alpha's seed from leaking out.

His rationale catches up, but he leaves his hand in place, keeping the majority of Arthur's come inside of himself.

Arthur shoves his hand away, and John starts to protest, make excuses, only to gasp as Arthur drops down onto his stomach and buries his face between John's thighs. 

Grabbing the younger firmly by the hips and licking into John with a tongue that feels a bit too big to be human.

John squirms, legs dropping open limply as he pants and grinds against Arthur's mouth. 

The older man has always had precise control over his shift but tonight...

John can't tell if _any_ of it is controlled.

"Arthur," He moans softly and grips the older man's hair. 

Arthur's rubs his hip lightly, continues to clean him out, mouthing up to John's nub and sucking lightly. 

The older man presses down on his thighs, keeps him spread even as he clenches and squirms and desperately tries to grind up against the stimulation. 

Arthur’s face starts to shift, again, growing wolfish. 

John watches as the older man’s fangs grow, eyes glow gold, soft honey-brown fur covering him. 

Until he’s half-shift, the vision of human nightmares. 

To John he looks like _mate_. 

John closes his eyes tightly and his claws sharpen, digging lightly into Arthur’s scalp behind the pointed ears. 

“Alpha,” John whispers.

Arthur’s golden eyes flick up to him, clarity and recognition warring with want. 

Arthur slowly pulls back, panting. 

Growling, low and steady.

John swallows roughly and struggles to sit up, twisting his hands in the cuffs of Arthur's shirt. 

He slowly turns around on his knees, then lowers his chest to the bedroll, presenting himself for Arthur.

Slick and come and spit all mixed and shiny, smeared on his cunt, on his thighs.

John's not sure if Arthur's ready to go again, but he is. 

"John," Arthur murmurs, thick through his fangs, "Breed you."

"... What?" John asks shakily, breath catching. 

"Shouldn't."

"You already did," John mutters and squirms as his belly warms with the thought.

The stupid, reckless thought.

"Mate," Arthur growls.

John blinks at the bedroll and slowly turns on his side to look up at Arthur. 

"What?" John asks shakily.

Arthur's furry face is wrinkled and furrowed in frustration, the older man staring down at him, and then at his neck.

"You serious?" John whispers.

Arthur's hands move to his hips, lift him back up until he's presenting again, spread open and leaking.

John whines as Arthur's fingers dip inside of him.

"Mate…" Arthur mumbles, and this time it's more of a request. 

John closes his eyes tightly, whines, rocks back on the fingers. 

John hears the older man swallow harshly, then the head of Arthur's cock replaces the fingers, semi-soft. 

Pushes in, as Arthur shifts further and John cries out at the stretch of it, not even hard, not even knotting him. 

"Fuck," John whimpers and clenches around the older man's length, "C'mon, _c'mon_."

Arthur moves, mounts him proper, leaning over his back, nosing at his neck, his claiming spot, as he starts to rock his hips. 

John makes small, shaky sounds with each thrust, burning up inside as Arthur's fangs graze his claiming spot.

"… Alpha?" John asks hesitantly.

"Wanna, _mate_ ," Arthur mutters, barely understandable.

John buries his face in his arms as his own body reacts to the emotions between them, fangs and claws and eyes growing wolfish.

Arthur thrusts, once, hard and deep and John can't stop himself from crying out, the pressure exquisite. 

So Arthur does it again, and again, forcing helpless and wanton sounds out of John as the older man's cock starts to harden inside him. 

"Knot," Arthur murmurs, "Breed."

"Wait," John begs and squirms and clenches around Arthur, "You serious?"

Arthur growls lowly in response and John shivers the whimpers as Arthur picks up the pace, the power in his thrusts, grabbing John's hips and wrenching the younger back with each thrust. 

Fucking into him in a way that seems impossibly deep. 

John whines and begs and starts to cry against his arms, panting and clenching around the cock inside him. 

Arthur noses at his neck again, teeth lightly setting on his claiming spot. 

John lets out a shaky breath at the realization that _they're actually doing this._

Arthur picks up speed again, each thrust slopping wetly as John grows wetter. 

Only able to beg and whimper and gasp, as Arthur's knot swells, tugs at him, fills him, and stretches him. 

John whines, low and long and completely feral as he comes on Arthur's cock, knot. 

The older man growls in response, seats deep in John's cunt and stills there, as his knot continues to swell, pressing out on every part inside of John. 

Arthur's hand moves between John's thighs, catching his nub and rubbing it firm and fast as Arthur's fangs sink in. 

Mark him, claim him as Arthur's. 

John sobs and comes again, hips twitching and rocking on his Alpha's knot as Arthur comes in him again. 

John breathes shakily through another orgasm, Arthur's fingers shifting, to pinch his nub and stroke alongside it. 

"Alpha, Alpha, Alpha," John whispers and trembles, only Arthur's hand coming around and cupping his belly keeping him from collapsing as Arthur's hips rock lightly, toying with him, _"Shit."_

“Mine,” Arthur murmurs as his fangs come free and he kisses the mark he’s left. 

His claim, on John. 

John breathes shakily and shifts his legs together, squeezing his thighs together like that could drive away the aching fullness. 

“Lay down, please,” John whispers, exhausted suddenly and Arthur makes a mournful sound behind him, “Just, drop me, lay down on me, I don’t care.”

Arthur hesitates then slowly lowers them into the nest, his heavy weight pressing down on John, warm and soft. 

John wants to shift fully, to maybe ease that stretch, wants to curl up with Arthur in a pile of furry, beastly _mate_ and-

He feels the tears soaking the fabric under his face before he realizes he’s crying. 

A gasping sob escaping him and he feels Arthur tense before, fretful, half-shifted hands are grabbing him and turning them onto their sides. 

“Hurt?” Arthur rasps worriedly, “John?”

John just breathes, wet and trembling, wrapping his arms around himself. 

“You’re gonna hate me,” John whispers. 

Arthur makes a confused, wounded sound and fuzzy, strong arms wrap around him as well, holding him tightly. 

A sound of pain slips past John’s lips as he shifts and Arthur’s knot tugs at his hole. 

Arthur’s snout noses at his claim, rubs his cheek against it, making soft, apologetic sounds while John stares at one of the shirts in the nest through vision blurry with tears. 

“You didn’t even wanna help me,” John says shakily and digs his claws into his stomach under Arthur’s shirt. 

Arthur breathes out slowly against his neck and John flinches when fangs set lightly into the fresh mark. 

“Hurts,” John whispers. 

Arthur pulls his mouth away and his arms shift around John, one hand moving to the younger’s belly and pressing in. 

John gasps, looking down, as Arthur shifts their hips and he sees his belly bulging into Arthur’s hand. 

“H-Ah- Ow-” John whimpers and squirms but it just makes it ache more so he stills with a sniff and moves his hand to cover his mouth, “Sorry.”

“Why?” Arthur manages thickly through his inhuman mouth. 

“Don’t- I didn’t-” John swallows, “Not tryin’ to be ungrateful.”

Arthur stills behind him and suddenly the snout is pressed into his hair, against his neck, all over both sides and the claiming spot then Arthur makes a low sound, concerned. 

“Broke,” Arthur grits out and John nods slowly, pressing his hand more firmly to his mouth. 

Arthur goes quiet and John feels the knot deflating, the large cock slipping out of him. 

He makes a shaky sound, face heating as he feels Arthur’s seed gushing out onto his thighs. 

It stings, in a new way and Arthur’s moving behind him quickly, suddenly. 

“Blood,” Arthur says and he’s almost back to human, blue eyes wide, worried, “John?”

John sits up slowly, pressing his hand into his aching gut and looking down, seeing the come streaked here and there with blood, it’s not a lot, not enough to really concern him. 

“Sorry,” John says shakily and gestures towards the trunk, “Can you grab a towel?”

“What?” Arthur asks hoarsely and John looks up to see freckled skin and furrowed brows, “I hurt you?”

“I... I’m alright,” John says slowly, “I think.”

Arthur stares at him for a moment then moves off to the side and grabs the wash bowl and a clean towel. 

“Are you sure?” Arthur whispers and John’s never heard him this worried on his behalf. 

John makes a weak sound and laughs half-heartedly. 

“Shouldn’t you be chastisin’ me for gettin’ myself in trouble ‘gain?” John asks and it’s loose and he feels loose. 

Laying back with a wince and letting Arthur clean him up with careful strokes, tensing at the cold water. 

“John,” Arthur says and it sounds angry. 

John swallows and tenses and curls in on himself slightly, chest aching with fear. 

“Stop,” Arthur whispers and it’s angry and hurt and desperate.

“I- I don’t know what you- Stop what?” John barely stops himself from whimpering, presenting, something to make his Alpha happy with him. 

“Bein’ scared of me,” Arthur says and he sounds devastated. 

John hesitates then forces himself to relax, as his body aches, and his throat burns, he lets his legs splay to either side of Arthur kneeling between them, keeping his eyes closed, fidgeting with the fabrics under him. 

“... That’s not better,” Arthur says thickly but continues trying to gently clean John, calloused fingertips lightly pressing at his hole, “Fakin’ it.”

John doesn’t respond, bites into his cheek to stop himself from saying something bitter only for his lips to part with a gasp as Arthur’s fingers slide inside him. 

“Sorry, just checkin’,” Arthur whispers, “I’m sorry.”

John keeps himself still despite wanting to squirm. 

Arthur’s fingers pull out and the older man presses the cool damp cloth to his slit again, sighing deeply. 

John opens his eyes tentatively to look at Arthur. 

“Seriously… You alright?” Arthur asks softly as his other hand gently settles on John’s hip, pets over the curve of it lightly. 

“I’m fine- Tired,” John mutters, “Kinda cold.”

Arthur makes a small sound and leans over John, grabbing at the blankets and furs and pulling them closer to tuck around the younger. 

John watches it happen, a different kind of ache in his chest and he breathes out shakily. 

“Lay down?” John whispers, “With me?”

“You sure?” Arthur asks hoarsely, “I’ll leave- If you want.”

“No,” John says quickly then stills, “Please, no.”

“... Alright,” Arthur whispers and moves to the side, gently encouraging John to close his legs around the towel, “I won’t.”

Arthur lays alongside him and tugs the furs around them both, encasing them in warmth and John tentatively turns to rest his forehead on Arthur’s shoulder. 

Arthur’s hand comes up to pet his hair then slides down and freezes when it meets the scabbing holes in John’s claiming spot. 

“I… This from me?” Arthur asks hoarsely. 

John makes a tired, affirmative sound. 

“Oh,” Arthur whispers thickly. 

“Sorry,” John whispers back and hides his face in Arthur’s chest. 

“No- I- Why are _you_ sorry?” 

“You claimed me.”

Arthur makes a weak sound of confusion. 

“You didn’t want to,” John mutters, “... You’ll have to kill me.”

“What?” Arthur asks loudly and pulls back, forcing John’s face up by his hand under John’s chin and the younger stares at him with wide eyes. 

“You-” Arthur chokes and makes a frustrated growling sound that has John shrinking away from him, “Stop doin’ that!”

“I’m sorry-” John gasps, grabbing at the older man’s forearm as Arthur’s hand presses into his throat, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Arthur stares at him, looking out of his depth and helpless.

His hand pulls back and John just watches.

"Jesus, John," Arthur mutters and John makes a weak sound, knows, instinctively, that his Alpha is disappointed, " _I'm_ sorry."

John hesitates then slowly shifts, closer, watching Arthur as he moves to rest, curled up against Arthur.

He presses his forehead to Arthur's sternum then holds himself still.

“Please,” John whispers, “Don’t leave yet.”

“... Dammit all,” Arthur grunts and his hands flex and he closes his eyes tight, expression pinched. 

Then Arthur sighs and he wraps his arm carefully around John, pulling the younger close and nosing at his hair. 

And John slowly falls asleep, every ounce of energy, emotional and physical, wrung out of him. 

\--

He’s in his tent. 

John blinks at his surroundings in confusion then gasps sharply when an ache pangs through him from low in his gut, making him hiss through his teeth. 

He wants his _Alpha_.

The air leaves his lungs in a whooshing exhale as he lifts his hand up to his claiming spot and feels the scarring tissue there.

"Ah… Shit," John whispers as grazing the sensitive spot makes him shudder.

Moving his hand to cover his mouth, willing down the nausea.

\--

He creeps out of his tent in the dim lighting to piss then walks slowly around to one of the dead fire pits, squinting up at the sky and determining it to be just before dawn. 

Shifting anxiously and looking across camp at Arthur's tent but there's no way of telling if Arthur's even in there without going in…

Or calling out to the older man.

 _His_ Alpha.

John rubs at his arms and makes a worried, wolfish noise under his breath.

Then goes back to his own tent.

\--

He doesn't sleep but doesn't rise again until hunger drives him out in search of food. 

Arthur's near, but John can't pinpoint where. 

He can smell the older man… Feel him.

John's pulled on drawers and his big coat, an old one of Arthur's with patches all over. 

He shuffles around anxiously trying to place everyone's locations as he moves to the fire.

The stew. 

Gets a bowl and walks around with it, still looking. 

He shies away from everyone who isn’t Arthur until Hosea ends up in his path, sitting in a chair at a small card table with a book. 

Hosea looks up before John can even try to move away, his movements all too slow anyway. 

“John,” Hosea says quietly, then nods at the seat next to him, “Join me.”

It’s not a request. 

John slides into the seat and has to steel himself against gasping, subtly shifts one leg up so he isn’t sitting so directly on the hard wood. 

Not looking up. 

“Are you alright?” Hosea asks gently, not closing his book but lowering it enough that John knows the older man’s full attention is on him. 

John presses his lips together and nods slowly. 

“Where’s Arthur?” John whispers, “Is he…”

“Dutch sent him out to hunt… What were you going to ask? Is he what?”

“… He mad at me?” John asks thickly.

“… I’m not sure,” Hosea says with a small frown, “Would he have a reason to be?”

“… I asked if he’d help me, if he’d be willin’ to, if the circumstances were different and he said no.”

“I see.”

“He claimed me.”

Hosea blinks at him for a moment, sitting up straighter. 

“He _claimed_ you?” Hosea asks thickly, “He was just supposed to-”

“I don’t know it was all...” John breathes out roughly and gestures to himself, “Nothin’ ever goes right, or normal, n’ I don’t think he meant to. Now he’s…”

John swallows thickly and shoves around the solid bits of his stew with the back of his spoon. 

“S’gonna hate me,” John whispers, “He don’t want a mate, least of all me.”

“John,” Hosea says softly, setting his book on the table and leaning in, “Arthur’s a good man, we know that.”

“He is.”

“… He wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Not on purpose,” John mumbles, drops his spoon into the bowl, too nauseous to attempt any more bites. 

“I don’t like the implications of that, John-” Hosea makes a rough sound and it makes John’s hackles rise, tensing, leaning slightly away when he feels anger rolling off the older man, “Do… Ah, this is a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry,” John whispers thickly. 

“No, _no_ , you needn’t be,” Hosea murmurs and his hand settles on the back of John’s head, thumb pressing into a soft spot in John’s skull, rubbing gently, “It’ll work out, I’m sure.”

“Didn’t mean to ‘cause trouble,” John mutters but he’s soothed by the gentle touch. 

“I don’t think you’re the one who’s caused the trouble here, John.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhhh there wasn't a good place to break up the chunk i just wrote but it was too big for one chapter so hueh 
> 
> mind the new tags

John wakes up to Arthur sitting next to him, frowning down at him, lightly nudging his shoulder. 

“Arthur,” John whispers hesitantly, hoarsely, trying to determine whether the older man is angry with him or not. 

“Thanks for tellin’ Hosea,” Arthur says sarcastically and John’s stomach twists, “He and Dutch just talked me to hell n’ back.”

“I’m sorry,” John whispers, “… You left.”

“Dutch needed me to go get us some food.”

“… I know,” John curls up a bit tighter in his blankets and drops his gaze, “Hosea told me.”

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Arthur says slowly, “I tried.”

“Oh.”

“I…” Arthur frowns heavier then lifts a hand and rubs at his forehead with a sigh, “I know you didn’t want me to leave, but your heat was broke already.”

John nods his understanding slowly. 

“So… You’re not mad at me?” Arthur asks cautiously. 

“No?” John whispers, “Ain’t you mad at me?”

“What?” Arthur drops his hand to look down at him, “No?”

“… We’re bonded.”

“… Yeah.”

“You don’t wanna be.”

“No, I don’t.”

John swallows thickly and moves his hands up to clench the blanket in front of his chin instinctively, guarding his neck. 

He doubts Arthur would just rip his throat out in the middle of camp but he-

He doesn’t like the thought. 

“What’d Hosea n’ Dutch say?” John whispers. 

“ _They’re_ mad,” Arthur mutters, “At me, not you.”

“… What do you wanna do?” John asks hesitantly. 

“What do you mean?” Arthur’s brows furrow again and he looks over John, eyes skipping down the younger’s form under the blanket. 

“You could break it.”

“I’m not- Jesus, John, you said that before, I thought you were still a bit out of it with your heat but I-” Arthur huffs softly and deflates visibly, shoulders slumping as he leans over his lap, “I ain’t gon’ _kill_ you.”

“I… You know I said I only wanted _you_ … As an Alpha,” John mutters, “Slipped out, but I meant it.”

“… Shit, Johnny,” Arthur huffs again and rubs roughly at his face, “I really didn’t mean to… To make this all complicated. 

“To mate me.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a moment then Arthur’s eyes track down John’s body again, concern clear in his expression. 

“You alright?” Arthur whispers, meeting John’s eyes, “Seriously?”

“I’m fine… Bit sore,” John says slowly, gauging Arthur’s reaction. 

“Smelled blood n’… I’ve never lost control on a shift like that,” Arthur stares at John for a moment then drops his eyes to his lap, “Everythin’ in me was tellin’ me I had to breed you, claim you, then I did and I started comin’ back and smelled blood. Thought I’d really _hurt_ you.”

John struggles into sitting up, slowly, and Arthur glances at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“… You’re real big,” John says hoarsely, “Shifted, was already stretched a bit from the first time but you… You’re just _big_.”

Arthur hums, a thin, embarrassed sound and John sighs softly. 

“Hosea give you somethin’ to… To make sure nothin’ takes?” Arthur whispers. 

“No… Don’t know if we have any.”

“Shit,” Arthur sighs roughly and looks around John’s tent, “I’m sorry, really, Johnny. I know I… There’s not really anythin’ to say, except that.”

“I’m not mad,” John says slowly, scratching at the side of his neck lightly, “I don’t think you realize that I wanted this, I’m just upset that you don’t. Now you’re stuck with me.”

Arthur swallows thickly and watches John’s hand linger, fingertips grazing the scarred claiming spot. 

“I don’t want you to hate me,” John says roughly, “I’d rather you kill me than resent me.”

“I don’t,” Arthur shifts onto his knees and hesitates, then slips his hand behind John’s nape and cups the claiming spot, squeezing, “I don’t hate you, alright? I’m not gonna… Even if Hosea n’ Dutch hadn’t threatened me for it, I don’t wanna be a bad Alpha for you.”

John shivers and presses back into the touch, closing his eyes tightly. 

“We’ll be alright,” Arthur murmurs. 

\--

John feels strange.

That’s really the best way he can describe it, not sick, not tired, just…

Strange.

There’s still a pull deep within him, an urge to be close to _his_ Alpha, Arthur. 

But he doesn’t want Arthur to get irritated with him. 

And he doesn’t want to look as needy as he feels. 

So he tries to keep it down, tries to keep himself quiet and useful. 

Staying out of the way, trying not to _need_ anything from anyone. 

Dutch finds a job, takes Bill and Arthur and they leave for a couple days. 

Then they have money again, another job, a cushion. 

Comfort. 

Plenty of food and even enough coin to get a round of drinks in the local saloon. 

John doesn't go, and when Hosea notices his reluctance, the older man stays behind as well. 

He knows it's to talk so John doesn't try and put it off, goes to the older man as soon as Dutch and Arthur are gone. 

Hosea smiles at him fondly and invites him to sit, nudging a vial in front of John. 

"If you need it," The older man whispers. 

"Ain't it too late?" John asks hoarsely, "Been a couple weeks." 

"Well… You'll likely bleed, it might hurt, but if you need it." 

"Hosea… I don't know what I need." 

Hosea huffs a soft laugh and sits back, studying the younger. 

"Isn't that our greatest mystery?" Hosea asks and John's head throbs at the thought of philosophy for supper.

He shrugs lightly and picks up the bottle, pocketing it. 

"I'll ask Arthur," John mumbles, "... Thanks."

\--

When Arthur comes back, when all of them do, their scents are thick with booze and Omegas. 

John's not even sure if he's _allowed_ to feel jealous. 

His chest kinda hurts, when he drops his eyes to the bowl sitting balanced on his thighs. 

Everyone's loud and happy around the fire, he feels silly, pushing his food around, green with envy and nausea. 

Arthur sits right next to him, not an inch between them, leaning forward and continuing an animated conversation with Hosea about some local acting a fool.

Arthur smells like an Omega, an unfamiliar one. 

John holds himself still, resisting the urge to cover that scent with his own.

Half listening to the older man's story, mostly just the tone, smiling when Arthur's laughing and frowning when Arthur's speaking low and dangerous. 

\--

"John?" Arthur whispers nearby and John mumbles a greeting, confused, turning over and opening his eyes. 

Arthur's sitting up on his bedroll, and John's laying on the grass next to him. 

John blinks and runs his eyes, sitting up slowly.

"You… You were sleepwalkin'," Arthur says slowly, "Came in here and laid right down." 

"Oh," John says hoarsely, "... Sorry." 

"... You good?" 

"I think I had a nightmare?" John says, uncertainty thick in his voice. 

Arthur sighs softly and shifts on the bedroll.

"Come here."

"I don't wanna bother-"

"John, I'm already awake, c'mon."

John shuffles closer and Arthur's hand wraps around his waist, pulling him to lay down beside the older man.

He tries to settle against Arthur, but his Alpha still smells wrong.

John moves slowly, giving Arthur plenty of time to shove him off as he presses his face to the older man's throat, rubbing his cheek against Arthur's scruff.

Trying to cover the other Omega's scent with his own.

Arthur's hand on his waist tightens then the older man huffs softly.

"S'just a lady at the bar," Arthur says quietly, "We didn't do nothin'."

"Don't care what you did, just can't stand the _smell_ ," John mutters.

Breath hitching when he's guided into Arthur's lap, straddling the older man.

He buries his face more firmly in Arthur's neck so the older man can't see his cheeks turning red.

"What d'you mean by that?" Arthur murmurs as his hands gently squeeze and stroke John's hips.

"... I don't care if you mess around," John whispers, "I know I ain't your type… So if you gotta go to someone else- I just don't like that _smell_. You smell _wrong_."

Arthur falls quiet and John keeps gently rubbing his face all over Arthur's neck and chest until he can only smell his own scent or Arthur's.

He sits up in the older man's lap, satisfied with his work and feels Arthur's cock, hard through the thin fabric of their drawers.

Arthur doesn't look up at him, eyes closed and head turned to the side.

"... Is that cause I-" John whispers hoarsely.

"Kinda… Got worked up at the bar but didn't-" Arthur sighs, "It's fine, you should go back to bed."

"... I can help, though."

"You don't gotta, John," Arthur says and finally looks up at him, blue eyes bright and the tops of his cheeks pinking, "I know you didn't mean it like that, I just-"

John stares down at the older man, studying, as he slowly rocks his hips.

Arthur's chest jumps with a silent gasp and he stares right back up at John.

John lifts one hand up to his mouth, worrying his lower lip as he looks down between them and shifts, sitting heavier, getting Arthur's cock lined up with his slit.

"John," Arthur says breathily.

"This good?" John whispers against his fingertips, rolling his hips until he gets what feels like the right motion, grinding hard along the firm ridge of Arthur's cock.

The older man makes a choked sound and his hands squeeze John's hips tightly.

His mouth pulling into a grim line and his brows furrowing roughly, watching John move. 

John keeps picking at his lip as he feels himself growing slick, breathing a little deeper, a little faster. 

Waiting for Arthur to stop him, or tell him he’s doing it wrong, _something_ -

Arthur’s eyes close and the older man’s head slowly tilts back with a soft groan. 

John feels Arthur’s cock twitching against him.

He looks back down between them and swallows hard as his toes curl and he tilts his hips to get a better angle. 

The head of Arthur’s cock pushing against his nub with every roll of his hips. 

“God,” Arthur whispers then growls softly and John stills, biting on his fingertips as he looks down at Arthur nervously. 

Arthur’s eyes slowly open and his Alpha looks up at him, blue and gold speckled in his irises. 

“Sorry,” Arthur mumbles, a bit bashful, “Can smell you… Feelin’ that same urge to… To make you mine.”

“I _am_ yours,” John says hesitantly. 

“Yeah… Yeah, shit,” Arthur makes a rough sound, “Sorry.”

John shakes his head and rocks his hips once, looking at Arthur questioningly. 

“… Keep goin’,” Arthur whispers, “Please.”

It’s the first time in his memory that Arthur’s been the one asking _him_ for something and not the other way around. 

John squeezes Arthur’s sides with his thighs then drops his hands to the older man’s chest, using the leverage to grind himself against Arthur’s cock. 

Arthur makes a couple quiet sounds of want, little muffled groans that he bites down on and John just watches. 

He’s soaked, now, can feel that the fabric is wet and dragging between them.

Arthur’s hands move down his thighs and squeeze tightly, his mouth falling open and he groans lowly, cock jerking against John through the fabric, pulsing and soaking his drawers with come. 

John swallows roughly and slows to a stop when he’s sure Arthur’s done, shoulders lifting to cover his neck as he moves a hand back up to his mouth. 

Arthur’s fingers are digging into his thighs as the older man catches his breath. 

“Jesus,” Arthur whispers hoarsely, “Haven’t gotten off that fast in years.”

John just shrugs lopsidedly, rubbing at his lips. 

“Shit,” Arthur struggles to sit up, sliding his hands up John’s hips to the younger’s waist, “Sorry, darlin’, lemme take care of you.”

John shakes his head and keeps picking at his lower lip, not meeting Arthur’s eyes. 

“… You still hurtin’?” Arthur asks thickly. 

“No… S’fine now.”

“Do you… I can smell how worked up you are, John,” Arthur says slowly, “Can feel you’re all slick.”

John doesn’t respond, looking down between them and gesturing loosely at Arthur. 

“I said I’d owe you,” John mumbles against his fingertips. 

“ _What_?” Arthur asks, shocked, “No, wait, John… I was just teasin’ you.”

John shrugs again after a moment, holding still in Arthur’s lap. 

“Hosea gave me somethin’ to take,” John whispers. 

“Oh…”

“Yeah.”

Arthur’s thumbs are moving slowly over the sides of his belly and John looks down at them, then up at Arthur. 

Arthur notices, and presses his lips together, stilling his fingers. 

“Do you not want me to?” John asks shakily. 

“… You didn’t?”

“Not yet, he- He said it might hurt… Got kinda scared. You didn’t answer me.”

“I… It’s not up to me, John,” Arthur says slowly, “I already hurt you, I… I claimed you, I ain’t gonna force you to carry a-”

Arthur trails off, sucking on his teeth and gently lifting John up and off of his lap, setting him down on the bedroll and getting up, moving over to his washbowl and carefully cleaning himself up with his back to John. 

“… Do you miss them?” 

“That’s a stupid question and you know it.”

John falls quiet again, just sitting where Arthur moved him. 

He watches the older man strip and change into a new pair of drawers, leaving the other pair in a pile next to his trunk. 

When he turns around John feels an itching at the base of his skull, something in him demanding he submit to his Alpha. 

He fights it, looks into Arthur’s sad blue eyes. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of you?” Arthur asks quietly. 

“Do _you_ want me to go back to my tent?” 

“… You don’t have to.”

“S’not what I asked.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I said I’d owe you anythin’,” John says cautiously. 

“I wasn’t gonna leave, I was just-” Arthur make a frustrated sound and kneels on his bedroll next to John, “I’m not gonna hold anythin’ you said that night against you, John… You were actin’ real strange.”

“… I don’t remember actin’ strange?”

“You kept apologizin’ and… I know I was doin’ you a favor but you were actin’ like it was a chore for me,” Arthur says quietly, “I know I hurt you but you still enjoyed some of it, right?”

“… Yeah?”

“I wasn’t…” Arthur sighs and rubs at his face roughly, “When you said you hadn’t done anythin', I was tryna make it good for you before I… Lost control.”

“… It was good,” John murmurs, his face flushing as he drops his eyes to his lap, “You were good.”

“I’m not tryna fish for praise here either, I just-” Arthur rubs at his face again then gestures at John’s stomach, “Are you?”

“Dunno.”

“… Do _you_ wanna take it?”

“I don’t know, Arthur,” John says hoarsely, “You plannin’ on claimin’ another Omega? Someone who can give you pups?”

“… I wasn’t plannin’ on claimin’ _anyone_ , John. Not again,” Arthur says seriously, “I don’t wanna lose anyone again.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://providentialeyes.tumblr.com)   
>  [my twitter](https://www.twitter.com/gwennolmarie)   
>  [horny twitter](https://www.twitter.com/swampslip)


End file.
